Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,129

months. It’s just that I haven’t been tuned in enough to recognise it.

I let out a sigh. ‘I love Ellie … and this song.’ And if that’s how it is, I can’t let my feelings leak out now. I need to add something more concrete to hide the rest. ‘You know she had bell sleeves on her wedding gown.’

‘You’re so funny, Mills.’ I can feel the reverberation of Nic’s laugh through his chest. ‘And I have two minutes and thirty-four blissful seconds to hold you – are you okay with that?’

Blissful? That’s Nic being ironic. ‘Ahaaa …’

But for me it’s the very last waltz – I’m not proud, I’ll take what I can get. The distant swish of the sea in the background is lulling me and I know that tomorrow, when this wedding is over, for a while my heart will be aching like nothing I’ve ever known before. But so long as I stick to my plan of distant appreciation to wean myself off and readjust gently, it should be totally containable. But for now, I should be soaking up every bit of the bliss.

There’s such tenderness in Nic’s touch as he wraps me in his arms, his cheek resting softly on the side of my head, his stubble gently snagging my hair. Enveloped in his heat, that scent he has. Inhaling and exhaling together as if, just for now, we are one person not two. My eyes are tightly closed, keeping the real world out, sealing me in my own very private bubble of happiness.

There’s also an unnerving storm of sexual need that, given we’re in full view of eighty or more wedding guests, I’m trying to rise above. The feel of his back muscles flexing under my fingers, our bodies merging where they touch like molten metal. Some bits eye-wateringly hard and other parts startlingly soft. I’m willing these hundred and fifty-four seconds to last my whole life. Truly, if I had to float on this particular tiny cloud until the end of time, I would not be grumbling or getting off.

But as we stand almost rooted to the spot, there’s a terrible poignancy to the notes we’re hearing too. Those sweet simple words floating out into the night with the single piano accompaniment feel like they’re loaded with a particular unfathomable anguish.

And at the end when the very last note fades and drifts upwards, all the way to the stars, we finally part. As the heat where his body pressed against mine ebbs away and is replaced by the chill of a gust of air from the sea, I slowly open my eyes and let in the world again. When I look up into Nic’s face it’s lined with sadness and I’m scraping tears I didn’t know were there from under my lashes.

As he sees me, he shakes his head, sniffs, and blinks himself. ‘Earth to Starship Enterprise … how about we take Merwyn down to the beach for a run before bed?’

As I give a silent nod of agreement, there’s a whistle, a scuffle of paws, and Merwyn’s damp nose on my knee followed by the thud of Trump, the rag doll on my thigh. The silver of the lawn is soft under our feet as we move across it and behind us the dance floor is already full again with dancers jumping around to the twangy guitar chords of Dancing In The Street. As we head for the space in the juniper bushes at the edge of the lawns that links the garden to the beach, the moonlight is splashing a line across the sea beyond and we’re leaving the beat of the music behind us. And my shoulder is still wedged inside Nic’s open waistcoat, with his arm firm and strong around me.

As the beach opens out, Nic bends, throws Trump for Merwyn, then puts his arm around me again. ‘The thing is, Milla …’ His voice is so low it’s grating. ‘I’ve been trying to find the right time … and now it’s running out … and I’m sorry, but I haven’t been completely open with you.’

As I’m the same, I can hardly complain. ‘So are you going to come clean now?’ I have no idea what he’s about to say.

He sighs. ‘When I offered to sort out Pixie’s wedding, it was a crazy impulse after Valentine’s night – but it wasn’t just about grabbing Jess’s discount. Mostly it was an excuse to bump into you around the shop to get